


What I've Done

by Kimchigurlie27



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Drinking, F/M, Heavy Angst, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 11:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14543703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimchigurlie27/pseuds/Kimchigurlie27
Summary: Learning a hard lesson in life can come at a high price.





	What I've Done

**Author's Note:**

> Heya!
> 
> It's Kimchigurlie and I'm back with another short fiction. This is just a random one-shot, I might add another chapter if there is enough interest in one. But I'm really happy where this ends at. And I suppose all of my works are just going to be named after songs at this point. I want to give my personal thanks to @Zemiki for assistance with beta reading this story and fixing errors. Without any further ado, I present to you, "What I've Done".

"Sans...if you're listening to this, I'm already gone." Frisk's voice croaked, "But there's a few..." There was sounds of heavy wheezing. "Things...I need to say. That...you need to know." 

Sans' hands trembled as he held the phone tighter within his hand. His bones rattling audibly as he forced the nausea down. Applying pressure to force the phone to the side of his face.

"...First off...I need to thank you. For...everything." Her voice went soft and started to cough a bit. "You went above and beyond...for everything. Even...if our marriage..." There was silence for a split second. "Failed...and I'm sorry for that. But...I hope...I sincerely hope you find happiness, Sans." Her voice was a bit louder but laced with pain. "You...deserve it. "

There was a pause, as he heard shuffling.

"Despite...our differences...oh...I wish...I knew how...nevermind. Look Sans...ah..thank you for taking care of me...allowing me to stay and looking after me. I knew...I knew my illness took a deep toll on you...and...Aliza."

There was more silence and Sans felt the tears beginning to prick at his sockets. His chest felt tight and breathless at the mention of his kid's name.

"But...you took care of us both..and allowed me to spend time with her. And...I'm really forever in your debt for that. Made the...last ..." There was more coughing but now growing intense. "....few months so...so...bearable. When I knew...my whole world was crumbling around me." There was even harder coughing from Frisk. "Sans...take care of her for me. I..ahh...know you will. And take care of ...yourself too..."

There was silence and then a violent fit of coughing. "Ngnnnn...even if...you don't feel the same way. I love you. I'm...sorry ...it didn't work out. But...I'm gonna...I'm gonna keep things how they are. Aliza...and you...ngnnn...everyone...deserves to be happy."

There was some background noise in the distance but it was hard to tell what it was.  
"Sans. One..more thing...it's under the dresser. It's for...you."  
There was another violent fit of coughing. And then the sound of the door opening.

“Frisk?"

Sans' eyelids opened wide at the sound of his voice. His stomach flipped as he let out a weak sob. Pulling the phone away to see that it was the end of the voicemail. His thoughts spun wildly as he stared at the phone.

_that must've happened…_

He jerked his head around to see a few eyes cast onto him. Unaware of just how loudly he was rattling within his seat. The sounds and smells of the hospital. His eyelights dimmed as he stared at the clock. 

_Five sixteen p.m_

His metaphysical heart was jamming up as he felt more tears pool within his sockets. He had teleported Frisk to the hospital at around three p.m. and she was coughing and wheezing violently. Not being able to talk. But...he figured that…

_No…_

His sockets went out as he fell limp backwards into the chair. Frisk always pulled through. She always did. She was strong and stubborn. No matter the situation, she'd fight through it. Frisk was going to prove the doctors wrong. Prove that their diagnosis of a "terminal illness" was _wrong._ Sans let out a weak laugh and nervously pulled at the collar of his t-shirt. His grin becoming forced as he glanced back at the clock. Frisk was just having another minor hiccup. He'd have to let Aliza pick out the bouquet of flowers that they'd deliver to her room. He focused on the clock once more, feeling as if he had frozen time by accident. But the second-hand was slowly ticking away, told him that present time was still flowing. So he focused his attention back on the cell phone. The missed call and the voice mail. 

Sans moved to check his recent calls and found that Frisk had rung at approximately two-forty-seven. And the voicemail was over three minutes long. His teeth grinded against each other as he stared at the voicemail. Her voice briefly popping within his head. Hovering a phalange over the voicemail to hit the delete button. He stared at it for a very long time. His throat becoming tight and strained, the longer he stared at it. It was just _mocking_ at him. Frisk was going to be OK. She had to be OK for the sake of Aliza. Their bright, cheerful, and, spunky seven year old kid. Aliza needed her Mother around. They were inseparable. And ...she looked so much like her Mother. Hell, she even acted so much like her Mother at times. 

Sans cradled his head within his hands and let out a whimper. So many thoughts plagued his mind as he fought to keep the tears within him. It was mentally, physically, emotionally straining to take care of Aliza and Frisk at the same time. And today was just one the days, that it felt easier just sleeping all of his troubles away. In fact, he hadn't even noticed the sound of a nurse trying to get his attention. Until he felt a hand gently tap his shoulder. Sitting up right to see a visibly tired nurse, around the age of thirty. Dark pouches under her brown eyes, reminded him of Frisk. The short black hair, however, did not.

"Sir? Mr. Serif?" The lady calmly asked as she pulled herself away. 

Sans stood straight up from the chair and stuffed his hands into his usual stained hoodie. "yes. that's me. sans serif." He responded tensely. "is she o-"

To his surprise, the nurse cut him off, "The doctors want to speak to you, in private. Can you follow me, please?"

Sans felt himself felt go numb. A odd tingling sensation of magic jolted through his body. "yes." He breathed.

He felt like he was going on autopilot as he followed the lady. Sans knew there was a lot of people waiting in the room. But that had never prompted this situation that was quickly unfolding before him. A sudden ringing in his ears becoming louder before the lady opened a door. The room looked...it made Sans worry. It was just...chairs and a few pictures hung on the seemingly bleak wall.

"Take a seat, they'll be right with you, Mr. Serif." She suggested, and, Sans automatically did so. Listening to the door close. His dim eyelights studied his hoodie while waiting. And found approximately seven stained spots. It really needed a wash.

It felt like eternity with the explosive ringing in his ears. Just him in the empty room alone with his thoughts. Turning himself into his own worst enemy in the short amount of time. Gripping the arm rest with great strength as he stared at nothing. Zoning out the world as he did. But the door clicked open and Sans snapped out of his thoughts. Sitting up right and watched as three doctors piled into the room. His eyelights searched their faces for any clues, but their faces were unreadable. As if they were masters of poker. His throat felt tight as the door closed behind them.

"Mr. Serif?" One of the doctors spoke up, glancing at his colleagues and then onto the monster.

"is...she ok?" Sans managed to muster out with all his strength.

"Mr. Serif, I'm sorry." The other doctor sighed regrettably. 

Sans stared at the doctors and blinked a few times. "what?" He whispered softly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Serif. She didn't pull through." 

His body felt hot and then suddenly cold. Staring at the doctors in disbelief and then suddenly standing up. "let me see her." 

"Mr. Serif, we're very sorry. But at this time, we cannot allow you to see her. We're very sorry for your loss."

His stomach knotted a few times and he shook his head. 

_Loss_

"yer kidding me." He uttered out and then plopped down into the chair. "right?" The strength was draining from him at a alarming rate.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Serif. We are regretful to announce that this is not a joke."

"a'right." He uttered and leaned back into the chair. "thank you."

The doctors looked at each other before one cleared their voice. "We'll stay in touch to help you as best as we can."

"sure." Sans gave a slow nod, his sockets empty.

"Again, we'-"

"I get it. " Sans interrupted and stood up from the chair. He forced himself between the doctors and let himself out of the room. Hearing the door clicked shut and the hushed whispers from the other side. He felt a wave of nausea hit him and he forced it down. And instead just shoved his hands into the hoodie and ended up teleporting away from the hospital. The next thing he knew was that he was standing in front of a gas station by the house. Allowing his mind to take over as he walked in, and soon came out with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. 

_It had been quite a long time since he had a smoke._

In fact, Sans dumped the habit, with some help and encouragement from Frisk and Papyrus. Shortly after he found out that Frisk was pregnant. But now, he was smashing the flimsy cardboard against his hand. Looking around and watching as cars drove past. People walking and just going about their lives. The sun was in the far distance, but not close to setting. It felt numb. He felt numb. It felt like he was in a different world now. 

Sans opened the package of cigarettes and tossed the wrapper out into a nearby trashcan. Pulling a cigarette out and stuffing it into his mouth. Feeling his slippers hit the uneven concrete as he moved along. Where was he going?

_Hell, if he knew._

His phalanges struggled to use the lighter and successfully lit the toxic carbon stick. Inhaling the dark fumes and coughing slightly. Exhaling it out and felt the old, yet, comforting rush of the nicotine bite at his magic. By his fifth cigarette, Sans snapped out of his thoughts to find himself on a swing at his kid's school, and luckily it was empty. His eyelights dimmed as he stared at the playground. The vision of Frisk and himself, playing with a younger Aliza coming into focus.

The sounds of his kid's infectiousness laughter rung within his head. Frisk's soothing voice then broke out in his head as well. She looked so happy within his vision, his memory. Healthy. Sans broke down and covered his face as he began to wail. His deep voice cracking as he finally allowed himself to break. To acknowledge that she really was gone.

_All he had left was his memories of her._

He didn't know how long he had cried for, but he felt like a scumbag now. The lowest scum on the Earth. That he had someone who had loved him unconditionally. _Yet he had the fucking balls to ask for a divorce._ That he was unhappy in the relationship. The love he once knew had fizzled out. It was all his own damn fault, because he didn't try. He sought the easier route of just being lazy. What did he do to try to spark the feeling he was losing?

_Nothing._

Worse yet was the fact that he didn't even tell anyone. Didn't tell her how he felt, only to keep the facade for so long. Now, he felt angry at himself. He didn't deserve her. Not the good hearted Frisk.

\-------------------------------

_"frisk? can we talk for a moment?" Sans asked, a low cautious tone in his voice. His eyelights watching as she combed her hair, in their bathroom._

_"Huh? Oh yeah, sure." She replied, with a small smile. The comb was set down and she followed Sans into the bedroom. Both of them sitting on the bed, looking at each other._

_"What's up, bonehead?" Frisk teased, with a playful grin growing on her lips._

_Sans just looked at her, looking detached from the situation. "frisk..." He started off slowly, his hand rubbing into his ankle. His eyelights shifting to look at her face and took a deep sigh. "i want a divorce."_

_The smile was gone. "Sans?"_

_He couldn't bear to watch as her face twist into a unbearable kind of sadness. One that he knew faintly._

_"Why?" Her voice trembled._

_"Because...i'm..."_

\-------------------------------

"A shithead, Frisk." Sans mumbled under his breath, rocking slowly in the swing. "A real shithead, sweetheart."

Feeling a surge of anger pulse throughout him and he grit his teeth as he let out a growl. Resting his face back onto the palms of his hands. The tears came again and he let out another wail that echoed through the empty playground. He was almost nearly done with the entire pack of cigarettes when his phone went off. The melody that made Sans shift upright and shuffled to pull out the phone. A picture of Papyrus flashed onto the screen and Sans hesitated to answer. But decided to, since he wasn't going to be able to hide or deny it any longer.

"hello?" He croaked, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"SANS? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" Papyrus immediately questioned, causing Sans to wince. 

"yeah, uh...well, no." He was rubbing the bridge now, clenching his eyes shut.

"WHAT HAPPENED, BROTHER? ARE YOU HURT?!" The concerned tone in Papyrus' voice boomed on the phone, which Sans pulled the phone away momentarily. Opening his eyes and beginning to wipe his cheeks with the sleeve of his dirty hoodie, he placed the phone back to his cheek.

"paps, i'm fine." He tried to reassure him, despite his voice being uncooperative. "Uh...hey..."

"SANS, YOU CERTAINLY DON'T SOUND, FINE. DID SOMETHING HAPPEN?"

"yeah. bro, is, uh aliza around ya?" He softly asked, immediately moving to grab his pack of cigarettes.

"NO. SHE'S LAYING DOWN. I THOUGHT YOU'VE BEEN HE- OH SANS...IS EVERYTHING OK WITH FRISK?" He questioned, his tone growing grave. 

Sans was struggling to light the cigarette, leaving his Brother in the suspense. But finally answered after his first exhale of smoke. His bones were beginning to rattle once more. 

"paps..." Sans softly said, and then grunted. "...she's...ah..gone." There was silence on the other line. Sans' heart sank as he heard the unmistakable sounds of his brother's sadness.

"SANS...I'M...SO SORRY." His voice was so shaky, which made Sans take a deeper inhale of his cigarette.

"...me too." The Brothers stayed silent for a moment, before Sans broke the silence. 

"paps...do you mind just keeping her overnight? ah...uhm...i'll swing by in the mornin'."

"YES...YES, OF COURSE. BROTHER, DO NOT FRET...DEAR ALIZA SHALL HAVE HER UNCLE'S COMPANY." Papyrus ended up blowing his nose, voice becoming strained as well.

"thanks, paps. i...think i just need….."

"SANS...YOU TAKE ALL OF THE TIME THAT YOU NEED. THIS...I..AH..I THOUGHT SHE WAS DOING OK." 

Sans grimaced and shook his head, despite that Papyrus couldn't see the action.

"yeah..." He forced himself to lie. But the truth was that her health was rapidly declining. He hated to admit that. "i thought so too."

There was a twinge of silence before Sans spoke up. "paps, don't tell her." He pleaded, his throat felt tight. Tears beginning to pool into his sockets.

"SANS....I WON'T. YOU HAVE MY WORD." Sans hated to hear that tense, heartbroken, tone in his younger brother's voice. Even when he was a babybones.

"thanks, bro. knew i could count on you." Sans finished off the cigarette and blew the smoke. It sounded like a disapproving grunt from Papyrus, but Sans ignored it. "heya paps, uh, i'm gonna...call it a night."

"....ALRIGHT. WELL, PLEASE LOOK AFTER YOURSELF, SANS...IF NOT FOR ME, THEN FOR HER." Papyrus was the ultimatum of cool.

"Ok."

"I LOVE YOU, DEAR BROTHER."

"i love you too, bro."

"I'M SORRY ABOUT FR-"

"i know. sorry, i, got to, uh...go."

Sans hung up the phone and stared at it, then stuffed into his inventory and let out a loud groan as he began to rub his temples.

It felt like a dream that he desperately wanted to wake up from. He _needed_ to wake up from. His heart felt heavy and he had so much to say to her. More importantly, he was scared for tomorrow. If he didn't wake up from this nightmare. 

How would he break the news to her? 

_"yer momma died, kiddo."_ Sans furiously shook his head and snapped out of his thoughts.

"yeh, like that would go over real smooth." He bitterly spat under his breath.

Forcing himself off the swing, he lazily covered all of the butts of the cigarettes with his slipper. Flecks of wood chips flying around. With a heavy and tired sigh, he teleported. As soon as he landed in the living room, he could smell how heavy he smelt of cigarettes. The foreign smell hitting his senses hard, but Sans just shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch; Also going barefoot as he abandoned the slippers. Moving down the hall and keeping his eyelights focused onto his feet. Deliberately making sure, he didn't look at any of the family photos.

Barging into his makeshift office room and going to the top self with a help of a chair. Pulling down a bottle of whisky. It was expensive yet thoughtful gift from Frisk. It was a monster-created beverage, which was such a rare commodity on the surface. The golden hue of the liquid sloshed around in the glass bottle. Sans grabbing a glass from the kitchen and immediately poured himself a shot. Taking the shot, he felt the robust flavor and burn lingering within the back of his throat. It was such a long time, since he had tasted this whiskey. Only drinking it once in awhile, wanting to make it last, but now he didn't care. Hissing as he took another shot and snatching the bottle within his hand.

Moving from the kitchen to the bedroom. Wincing as he stood in the doorway. His bones trembled as he stared at the aftermath of today's events. The mess of the blankets, jumbled half way on the bed and floor. The trashcan tumbled over and with Frisk's cellphone strewn across the room. Sans slowly came into the room, feeling as if this was just a dream. The scientist within him told him to use his logic, that she was dead, and to accept the facts. To acknowledge it.

Forcing himself to sit on their bed and sat in the silence of the room. Pouring himself a shot. Taking the shot. Hissing in the pain. The room was void of reminders of their marriage. Of their wedding. Frisk was so kind to remove it for Sans' sake. Hid it within the home. Within her heart. Sans gripped the glass hard and took another shot. Slamming the glass down onto the nightstand, causing it to break.

"fuck!" He exclaimed, and, retreated his hand. Examining it and closing it tightly. His figure heaving as he angrily sat in the bed.

He grabbed the whiskey bottle and placed it against his teeth with a clink. Tossing his head backwards and fighting the burn of the alcohol and taking in as much as he could, but pulled it away and began to violently cough. He sat the whiskey onto the nightstand, away from the broken glass. He felt his magic flow tingle with the warmth of the magic based drink.

"lousy, ol' husband, huh?" He mumbled, "heh."

Dragging a hand against his skull, Sans closed his eyes. "ain't much of a dad either. Maybe...eh..."

"definitely betta than pops, that's fersure." He paused momentarily. "yeh. i ain't forcin' my kiddo to do weird and painful science projects, heh...heh...nehh.."

He scratched the back of his head and took another swig of the alcohol. At this rate, he wasn't even sure who he was talking to. Not like it mattered.

"but yah know, i guess, i'm gonna fuck up. cause i ain't got much a clue...of humans. ah fuck. look at me, bag ol' bones."

Sitting up right, Sans examined his hand, seeing that they were indeed not as white as he remembered to be. A sign of aging. He let out a exasperated sigh. "ain't no spring chickin, anymore."

He eyed the cell phone and got off the bed, a bit wobbly. Kneeling down to pick it up and hold it close to his chest. Another swish of the whiskey made him groan afterwards. Settling down back onto the bed. Still holding the phone close to him.

"Frisk..."

The whiskey was returned to it's spot on the nightstand. And Sans sighed deeply and stared at the cell phone within both hands. The after taste of the whiskey, lingering within his mouth.

"why didya have to love a fool like me?" He whispered, stroking the cell with a thumb.

"even after i broke 'ta heart. ya still..."

Sans bowed his head. "yah still were so good to me."

"you still took care of me and our star. yah never once let her know...how bad it was eatin' yah."

"but i knew. i knew how much it was eatin' at you, sweetheart. i heard you cry...and i thought i could just ignore it." Sans gripped onto the phone tightly and clenched his eyes shut. "i thought i could."

There was only silence within the room. "i guess i'm gonna havfa pay for it now. heh, be careful for what you wish for, right?"

There was no response.

"Right."

Sans broke out into tears as he flopped onto the bed. Digging his face into the cool blankets. They did an efficient job at muffling his loud wails of sadness. Digging his fingers within the sheets as he wiggled. He cried, cried, and, cried until he felt exhausted. Letting out his anguish and guilt as he mourned. Feeling breathless at times as tears flowed from his sockets. Yet still hoping to wake up at any given moment. To hold her and tell her how special she was. To tell her so many things, back when things were good. He sat up and wiped his face, reaching over to take the whiskey again, but paused as he stared at the dresser.

_"Sans. One..more thing...it's under the dresser. It's for...you."_

Pushing himself off the bed as he slowly inched his way over to the dresser. Inching down to the floor and gulping, his heart beginning to pound. Scared of what he'd find. Reaching into under the dresser, he felt an stiff large envelope. Pulling it out to see Frisk's handwriting.

_'To Sans'_

His heart began to furiously pound as he flipped over to open the golden metal flaps, pulling out the papers. His heart froze and stared at the front page of it. His eyelights shrinking to tiny pupils as he looked on in horror. Frantically, shuffling all the papers until he had reached the end. On the last paper, he saw her signature. Next to his sloppy mess of a signature.

_Finalizing the divorce._

Tears pricked at his sockets, as he gripped the paper. She had been hesitant on signing, but for him she did, finally.

"sweet'eart..." He whispered and pressed the sheets of paper against him.

"no. i..." His posture sunk as he hung his head. Phalanges gripped the sheets and began to rip the papers to shred. Pieces flowing around him as he made short work of the documents. 

"i love you, frisk." His voice was taut and strained. "I don't want or need this...anymore."

_But it was far too late._


End file.
